Robbery
by MaKRoW
Summary: something i'm not going to finish also lots of spellings errors and stuff enjoy        But you don't care for the frilly design of the drapes because your brother is hardly clothed with a remote in his hand as he watches My Little Pony.


As usual, the apartment is dark and the only light filtering in is through the open door behind you. It lights up your living room, the couch and the floral curtains. But you don't care for the frilly design of the drapes because your brother is hardly clothed with a remote in his hand as he watches My Little Pony, which has got to be the source to the of the obvious lump rising from his towel. Your face stays impassive as you shut the door, drop your backpack and flick on a light. Dirk doesn't move, not a single muscle when you walk over and sit down next to him. You don't stare at his chest, or his boner, or any part of his body. You simply watch as Rainbow Dash flies around on screen shouting nonsense at Flutter Shy.

"How was school?" he asks you, sitting straighter. The movement nearly exposes him, but it's not like you noticed this with any interest.

"Great," you respond. "The science teacher fucked all of us today with this mad assed test, though." Maybe you'd add a metaphor to that statement, or some other ironic form of colorful literature. But you're distracted, and it's a lame excuse.

Dirk laughs; you know he knows that you're flustered. "Is all you do is bitch?" it's an invitation. An insult that hides that he's asking if you'll make a move, touch him or go to your room and play on your Xbox. He's played his card and now you've got to play yours.

You look at your mental deck and decide to play the only one that your brother is expecting, the one where you move onto his lap and grind your hips, but you don't kiss him or anything. His lips are on your neck, anyway. It took seconds for his hands to come to your hips and thighs and encourage your speed, and after that he started to bring his hips up to meet yours.

The towel's slid away at this point, but you don't look down or at him at all. You're staring at the wall as he begins leaving a trail of marks across your chest, and you know his eyes are closed because you're still fully clothes, not a bit of clothing missing. He'll fix this, in maybe a minute when he realizes that it's his turn to lay down a card and challenge your own. Dirk's hands leave your hips and pull away your shirt, and now you allow your hands to fall on him. From his shoulders down you feel his chest and sides, all of which is rough and hot against the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands. "Mm," Dirk hums, licking up your neck and jaw to meet your lips. Your brother's a bit of a jackass and doesn't give you any warning for how deep he's going to dip you or how few cards he'll put on the table. This time he lays his full hand, of which holds the shittiest cards in the entire universe, and attacks your mouth with tongue and teeth.

He doesn't stop there, fingers digging into your thighs as they start to slide your jeans and boxers away. It's awkward, and you have to lift one knee at each time and kick the clothes off your ankles. Dirk doesn't immediately grab you – again, because he's a humungous assfucker - and instead rubs at the skin all around your dick. Chipped finger nails rake against your thigh and a hand massages your navel and chest, running all over the marks that'll look even worse tomorrow. Without realizing it, your breath has gotten heavy and you've stopped almost any motion save for the few bucks of your hips in expectation as his hands continue to rage an assault on your skin. The few moments you had of pleasure are immediately taken away when your body sings that it's not enough.

"Bro," you garble against his mouth.

"Yeah," he says. There's nothing more to it and nothing is implied. You've forgotten you're still holding some cards, seeing how he's thrown all of his in a turn ago. You take off your shades and grab his, pausing a moment as he looks up at you, a small motion hardly noticeable from behind the dark glass hiding his eyes. They're off with scarcely any problem, save for when they get caught in his stupidly fucked up hair. You rip them out and fling them across the room carelessly. You then grab him by his shaft and give a nice yank and you can't tell if the noise he makes is out of surprise, pleasure, or some kind of pain. Fucks are ungiven anyway, because you do it again until he touches you.

Which he doesn't do for a while, mainly because he has to hold up his reputation. The one where he's a total fucking asshole. "_Dude,_" you bite his lip.

His eyes roll.

"_Bro,_" you almost growl, as if you're actually angry. No, you're just really, really fucking horny.

"What?" he says.

You feel like punching his jaw but instead you just move your hand away and grind against him again. With the jeans gone it feels stupidly fucking good; his skin hot and wet against yours. A moan rises in your throat and you let it go against his lips.

He stands up and holds you but your hips, your heels immediately digging into his ass because you know he'll drop you if you don't – another dick move of his. A chuckle goes down your throat and he leans you against the wall, and suddenly he's in charge of everything. You can hardly move your hips and your arms are basically useless at this point. One of his hands supports you and the other is jerking you off, but it's too fucking slow and you grumble and open your eyes to stare into his orange ones. "You're a dick," you say. He shrugs with a smirk, condescending and still completely asshole-ish. Dirk rolls his eyes and you glare, which makes him laugh and you him up with your mouth.

You fling your cards into the air and pull at his hair, bringing him as close as possible and using the small bit of space you have you start grinding your hips again. If he won't give you release then fuck him, you'll take it. Kind of. This is a really shitty robbery you're trying to commit.


End file.
